


Original Character Studies

by incorrectbatfam



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Original Fiction, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27141886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: A collection of one-shots and character studies for my original characters.
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Original Character(s), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Finn Lafayette

_Click._

As the next group positioned themselves against the velvet backdrop, Finn adjusted his homemade domino mask, wiping the sweat from the bridge of his nose. Turning back to the tripod, he gave the classic _“Say cheese”_ and snapped the photo. Once in a while, he got the _“What are you supposed to be?”_ , to which he replied, _“The Scarlet Pimpernel”_ , to which they replied, _“What the hell is that?”,_ as though there weren’t already two movies made of it.

Taking photos for people who didn’t need nearly as much money as they had was not what Finn had in mind for Halloween, but the original photographer called in sick and he was the next best. He couldn’t complain—they paid well. Finn needed every cent he could get. It put food on the table and quelled the constant apprehension roiling in his stomach.

And it’s not like he wasn’t impressed. He was in the Palace of Versailles, surrounded by some of the biggest celebrities on the continent. Granted, they were all in masquerade, so it wasn’t like he knew who he was photographing. Still, there was a star-struck-ness in the diamond chandeliers and satin gowns—finery which he could only dream of owning. 

The music slowed. A-list partygoers moved away from the camera and toward the spotlights they loved so much. Soles clicked rhythmically against the marble dance floor. On a stage platform, an orchestra filled the room with its easily recognizable Barque tunes. Slumping against the wall, Finn took off his mask and ran his hands through his sweat-damp hair. _Finally_ , he could take a break.

He scanned the table. A chocolate fountain stood on one end with its hand-carved cherubs. Petit fours and tarts covered every inch of the surface. The centerpieces were a croquembouche and champagne tower, back-to-back like siblings ready to take on the world. The other end held three tiers of hor devours. Finn settled for the swirly pink paste on a cracker.

Big mistake.

He snatched a napkin and spit into it before folding it over and wiping his tongue. Finn grabbed a champagne glass and guzzled it, only to recoil at what was his first taste of alcohol.

Someone said, “I skip the salmon mousse every time. Though, you look too young to be drinking.”

Finn set the empty glass down and tossed the napkin into a bin across the room. Turning around, his eyes laid on a girl his age dressed in a Queen of Hearts costume, holding her mask on a stick. Auburn curls bounced over shoulder, at the top of which rested a silver-and-ruby diadem. The gown’s ruffles cascades to the floor, trailing a full meter behind her. Despite wearing high heels, she only reached his chin.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, this is the first party I’ve been to that served fish toothpaste.”

“So you’re not from…” She gestured to the crowd.

Finn shook his head. “I’m just a photographer.”

“Lucky you.” The girl glanced up and down his costume. “What are you supposed to be?”

Here it goes again. Finn rolled his eyes, smiling. “The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

“Like the book?”

He snapped his fingers. “Exactly like the book! It’s one of my favorites.”

“Mine too!” she exclaimed.

Their conversation was cut short when an older woman—presumably the girl’s mother—tapped her shoulder and said something. Finn couldn’t make it out over the noise and her thick Normandy accent, but he got the idea when she pointed to a middle-aged waving in the middle of the dance floor.

The girl sighed apologetically. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

Finn’s lip curled as the man led her in a waltz—one party looking far more comfortable than the other. The girl squirmed but didn’t break away. Not with so many people watching. Witnessing it made his stomach churn—she must have been no older than him, and he was barely seventeen.

As another song started, Finn secured his mask on his face and slipped into the crowd, his tailcoat nearly snagging on someone’s purse. He swung around to where she was, nose wrinkling at the onion smell coming off the man.

Finn coughed. “Not to interrupt, but may I?”

The man eagerly turned to him. Before Finn could respond, he was yanked into the thicket by rough, wrinkled hands with a surprisingly powerful grip. Stepping off to the side, the girl’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a giggle. He sent her a glare—a mix of playful jealousy and _“you owe me”_. At the very least, he would’ve liked his men to be less _old_.

After what felt like forever, with more spins than an amusement park ride, Finn wrenched himself from the man’s grip and plopped down on a wide windowsill, panting. He checked his watch. How were the other guests not tired?

“That was definitely the highlight of my night.”

Finn chuckled. He scooted aside and patted the spot. “At least one of us had a good time.”

The girl glanced at the party. “What say we get out of here?”

“I’ve never heard a better idea.”

They slipped out the grand ballroom doors, carefully making sure that their steps didn’t echo and attract attention. The girl lifted her dress and walked faster.

“Thank God,” she said. “I’ve been going to galas all week. I’m _sick_ of them.”

The halls grew darker as they took a sharp left.

“You’re not gonna murder me, are you?” Finn asked.

The girl laughed. “And taint a historic landmark? No way.” She slowed down. “I think we can stop here.”

“What if we get caught?”

She waved him off. “Media storms pass quicker than instant noodles, trust me.”

The corridor was narrower than the one before, but no less elegant. Gold-framed Renaissance paintings adorned the walls. The ceiling arched above them like bent playing cards. Silver light peered through the clouds and glinted off the mosaic onto the floor, painting a galaxy beneath their feet. The hall smelled musty from disuse, unlike the food and drinks from the main area. Finn traced his finger along a frame, accumulating a clump of lint.

“Pretty sure they haven’t dusted this place since the revolution,” he said. “Also, why did the king need a place this big? I bet he didn’t even see all of it.”

“You’re right,” the girl said. “We should eat the rich.”

Finn tilted his head, perplexed. “I was under the impression you were…”

“Oh, I am,” she said. “My father’s a director and my mother owns a fashion line.”

“Damn,” he whistled. “And here I am, photographing for birthday parties.”

There was no place to sit, so they settled on the floor, backs pressed against the stone-cold wall. 

“What about you?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“What do you do that gets creepy old guys asking to dance?”

“Acting. Modeling. Instagram influencing. Sometimes I release merch.”

“So you’re, like, _famous_ famous,” Finn said. “But I still don’t know who you are ‘cause of that.” He gestured to the mask.

“Well, do you need to?” the girl asked.

He thought for a second. “Technically, no.” Finn rested his elbow on his knee. “Do you like it?”

“It’s a mixed bag,” she replied. “I know a lot of people would kill to be where I am but… it doesn’t feel like me.”

The bright night sky shined on her glimmering emerald irises and curled ginger lashes. Some of her makeup had rubbed off because Finn could see a sprinkle of copper freckles on the side of her face.

“What do you want to do?” Finn asked.

“I wanna be a fashion designer.”

He snorted. “That’s it? You wanna inherit your mom’s company?”

The girl shook her head. “Not even close. I wanna start a new one. The clothes will look nicer and they’ll be more affordable.”

Finn tilted his head, motioning for her to elaborate.

“My dad gets me my acting gigs and my mom does the same for modeling. I have people designing merch and agents telling me what I can and can’t post. I want something to call my own. I want to be remembered on my own terms.”

Finn nodded. He knew all too well what that was like—living in a shadow, having nothing to claim. It, for a lack of a better term, _sucked_. In less than a year he’d become an adult, but what did he have to his name other than a weathered Polaroid camera?

“And you?” she asked. “Is photography, like, your dream?”

He bit his lip. “You can say that. I wanna travel the world, meet people, and take photos of unknown places. I’ve been stuck here all my life; I could use a change.”

She sat up straighter. “Let me help you, then. Plus, I kind of owe you one for what happened back there.”

Before Finn could reply, the girl drew from her purse a wad of cash as thick as a wallet itself and placed it in his hand. 

His jaw dropped. “I can’t take this. This is way too much.”

“Not for me.”

“That’s gotta be, like, five grand!” he exclaimed. “I could pay half a year’s rent with that!”

“Exactly,” she said. “I don’t have to worry about that.”

Finn didn’t know what to do other than slip it into his coat pocket. “There’s gotta be something I can do to repay you.”

She tapped her chin. “I’ve never been trick-or-treating?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding me.”

The girl shook her head. “I assure you, I’m not. There were too many safety concerns and just people bothering me, so I never could.”

Finn couldn’t remember the last time he went trick-or-treating, either. Logically, it wasn’t that long ago—a few years at most—but damn did it feel like forever. Back when his parents were around to coordinate matching costumes and take them down the block. Back when he didn’t have to worry about paying the next month’s dues, and when people in the house talked about something other than money, and when they weren’t one bad month away from an eviction notice. Back when things were okay.

He checked his watch. “It’s still Halloween for another few hours. You think we can slip under everyone’s radars?”

“They’ll find out. They always do,” said the girl, “but we shouldn’t let that stop us from enjoying ourselves.”

“True,” Finn said. “I guess I’m just so used to being the guy behind the camera.”

The girl pulled herself up and brushed herself off. She offered her hand, and Finn gladly took it.

“Follow my lead,” she said. “I’ve been here before; I know a shortcut.”

Nodding, Finn allowed her to guide him through the winding halls. Greek statues stared down at them; Apollo, especially, seemed to have a mixed expression on his face as his eyes followed the teenagers. He nearly tripped over his shoelaces as they descended a spiral staircase. 

The girl kicked a door open. Night air rushed past Finn’s face, welcoming him like the first rain of summer. The sweet and pungent smell of wet grass ticked his nose and shredded leaf fragments stuck to the bottom of his shoe. In the distance, crows communicated a secret message. It no longer echoed as their shoes clicked against the rough cobblestone, past the bare trees and flower bushes.

“So, where to?” the girl asked.

“You’re asking me,” Finn replied. “You’re the one who wanted to come out.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know the best spots,” she said. “You’re the Parisian native, right?”

“Touché.”

Finn’s eyes scanned the courtyard until he landed upon an iron gate. “Ever jumped a fence?”

She shook her head.

“Neither have I,” he said. 

Hanging over the top of the fence was a willow tree swaying gently in the breeze. Thunder rumbled, but the clouds hung in the distant horizon like an empty threat. Finn pulled himself onto the first branch before extending his hand to the girl. 

He looked down. The drop over the other side seemed both daunting and the complete opposite. For once, he was okay with that. Uncertainty wasn’t so scary with someone by his side.

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded. “On three.”


	2. Gabriella Lafayette

_ Smart girl. _

_ Know-it-all. _

_ Nice girl. _

_ Goody-two-shoes. _

_ You’re so mature and sensible. _

_ Would it kill you to lighten up? _

Gabriella wanted to scream. Over one shoulder, she had her grandparents relying on her to be the family’s next quote-unquote “success” and support the household, and over the other, she had her brother and her classmates reminding her again and again how boring, pretentious, and uptight she was. The adults in her life lauded her premature maturity; her peers resented it. Caught in the middle stripe, she had one foot in a promising career and salary and the other in the desire to curl up and be a little girl again.

But right now, the thing in front of her drove her crazy more than anything.

_ Stupid high school literature. _

_ Origin of Species _ , she could fly through.  _ Persepolis _ , perhaps, too. But Greek mythology? They might as well give her a book written in the  _ Lord of the Rings _ elf language. More specifically, she had to analyze the story of Leto, Apollo, and Artemis—just the story of some lady getting pregnant and having twins on a secluded island. What was there to analyze?

Eyes stinging and hands shaking, Gabriella pushed her chair away from the desk. The metal frame hit the edge of the twin bed. With barely enough space to pace around her bedroom, she stood up, stretched, and cracked her back.

Three floors below, children dressed as zombies and fairies and sheet ghosts dashed down the street, giggling. A few years ago, she would have been doing the same—donning matching costumes with her family and ringing doorbells, using her father’s meticulously calculated route to maximize their earnings. And at the end of the night, they gathered in a living room fortress with hot cider and her mother’s infamous ghost stories.

But her parents were long gone, her grandparents were visiting a friend, her twin brother had a photography gig at Versailles, and Gabriella—the always-reliable good girl—was left in a dark, empty apartment. The cleanly pressed pleated skirt from this morning was now a rumpled mess in her lap, and one of her socks had begun to slip down. Her headband no longer did its job of keeping flyaway strands in place, as though it too resigned itself to the late hours.

Her stomach grumbled, and it was then that she remembered she hadn’t eaten since lunch. 

Was there enough food? There’s only one way to find out.

She flicked on the yellow hallway light and shuffled, shivering at the cold tile seeped through a hole in the heel of her sock. 

What did she want?

(A normal family. Stability. A decent relationship with her brother.)

A mug cake will do.

As Gabriella combined the ingredients with a coffee stirrer, her eyes wandered to the cuckoo clock on the wall.

**[11:25 PM.]**

Next to the clock hung a framed picture of two adults in their mid-thirties, each holding a preteen under their arms. The date was marked as the thirty-first of October, exactly four years ago. That version of Gabriella had her hair pulled into pigtails that stuck out from the bottom of the space helmet. Under that, she wore an eyepatch, and in one hand she held a wooden sword. The silver space suit displayed a glow-in-the-dark Jolly Roger on front. Her brother didn’t look too different. 

She smiled fondly at the memory. Gabriella wanted to go as an astronaut, but her brother wanted to be a pirate, and her parents were huge fans of making them match. Hence: space pirates.

“Mother. Father. Hope you two are doing well. I know how much you loved the fall holidays.”

Gabriella hoisted herself onto the kitchen counter, legs swinging. She undid her ponytail and began fiddling with her hair.

“I know I said Finn and I would go trick-or-treating this year,” she said, “but we’ve been… busy. Again.”

The clock ticked. Time stretched like taffy. 

“That’s no excuse.” She tried to swallow the bitter taste on her tongue, but it refused to go down, lingering like the unfinished assignment on her desk. “You always told us family came first.”

Gabriella drew a knee to her chest, not daring to look in the disappointed eyes of the people in the photo. The microwave hummed; it was the static on her signal-less TV.

“Grandfather and Grandmother are doing well,” she said. “Grandmother showed me her old album. Did you know she was a resistance spy when the Germans occupied Montoire? It’s how she met Grandfather—he said she was one of the best snipers around.”

She twirled her hair, vaguely noting the split ends.

“You probably already knew that, though.”

There was one minute left on the microwave. 

“School is going well—for me, at least. A letter came in yesterday. I got accepted into my dream school—you know, the pre-law one I’ve been talking about since I was ten. I’m still trying to get Finn to care more about his grades but he just…” 

Gabriella swiped the hot tears blurring her vision and threatening to spill onto the counter. 

“I miss you.”

She hiccuped.

“I know it’s been a long time and I should have moved on, but it’s so  _ hard _ . Every day I look at the door thinking you’ll come back from work bringing sweets from that place Father loves. Every night I think you’re going to tuck me into bed and read me a story and give a bedtime kiss and call me your Starling just one more time.

You told us if anything happened to you, we had to stick together. But that’s getting harder every day, too. We used to be best friends, but now he’s a stranger to me. We don’t tell each other anything and sometimes we go days without talking and– just— _ gah! _ I feel like I’ve let you down.”

Gabriella hopped off the counter, sniffling; she wiped her puffy eyes with a dish towel and took the mug out of the oven. The smell of doughy nothingness filled the kitchen.

She sighed. Better get back to work. After all, she’s the

_ smart girl, _

_ Know-it-all, _

_ nice girl— _

Wait.

Nobody’s home.

Gabriella slammed her laptop shut and opened the window. Crisp air and sparkling champagne city lights flooded the room. Breathing deeply, she took in the sweet smell of orchids and hanging ivy. 

A giggle bubbled through her chest, like she had drunken one too many soda pops. She hopped onto the fire escape, waving hello to the neighbors on her way up. Wind flowed through her hair and cardigan, and if she could, she’d swing from the ivy ropes.

The gravel rooftop crunched under her feet. To her left stood a satellite dish, glazed in rainwater, beside the gray pigeons. To her right, crates-turned-planters tucked vegetable stalks in a bed of dirt, waiting for anyone from the community to tend and take. Dark clouds rumbled overhead, so close it was as though she could reach up and touch the lightning flashes within.

_ BOOM. _

The hairs on her neck stood up as dry thunder tore through the sky. Among the rolling gale and indigo night, it was just her. Not a student. Not a granddaughter. Not the kid every adult could count on. Her.

She rolled up her sleeves, feeling the tingle on every inch of her skin. It reminded her of that class-assigned story.

Once upon a time, there was a lightning god whom everyone respected. One day he fell in love, and that lover ran to a secluded island to have her twins. The Hunters. The sun and the moon. They had their differences but they also had each other’s backs, and their cosmic power could weather any storm.

_ BOOM. _

Gabriella combed her fingers through her windswept locks and took in a deep breath—the first in a long,  _ long _ time.

She had another story—one that she liked way better than some old myth.

Once upon a time, an astronaut who fell in love with her trainee. They were told they couldn’t start a family, at least not at the expense of their careers. They went ahead anyway and built their safe haven—their little alcove of forever. And as difficult and winding as the road may be, Gabriella was determined to keep that dream alive.

Somewhere, beyond the clouds, was a galaxy waiting to be explored. And if the myths turned out to be true, then she could spot the familiar faces watching from above, hopefully smiling down. Gabriella might not be able to see them, but they were there, and they weren’t going anywhere. The stars could wait until it was time to get older—and so could she.

She looked up as the first drops fell out of the sky, and she laughed.


End file.
